


Microwave Philosopher

by Yatzstar



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Acadia, Drabble, Gen, Humor, Nick Valentine (mentioned), Philosophy, children of atom, dima likes to talk, far harbor dlc, he's also secretly just as sassy as nick, if not more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzstar/pseuds/Yatzstar
Summary: Peace has been restored to Far Harbor, and so DiMA and Nora share a moment of reflection together.





	Microwave Philosopher

“Nora?”

Nora gave a slight start at the soft, but still unexpected voice behind her. She had been leaning against the rail just outside Acadia, watching the sunrise, lost in thought, with a bottle of Nuka-Cola hanging forgotten from her fingertips. A few pink and purple clouds streaked the horizon like cotton candy. She wondered if cotton candy still existed, and if so, would she ever taste it again?

The woman glanced back at the tall, slender figure of the approaching DiMA. “You’re up early,” She remarked.

The synth gave a small smile, coming to stand beside Nora. The rising sun cast a peach-colored hue to his normally chalky complexion, and made the tubes and processors protruding from the back of his head gleam in the light. “Now that peace has been restored to Far Harbor, I feel I can appreciate the sunrises a little more,” He said, leaning on the rail.

Nora hummed agreement, returning her gaze to the rising sun. For a few moments, there was silence between the two, but it was not awkward.

“Why did you do it?”

The woman looked over at DiMA, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Pardon?”

“Out of all the ways to handle the conflicting factions,” The synth explained, “You chose to make peace with all of them. Even the Children of Atom, who you clearly hold no fondness for, and even…even knowing me.”

The last words were spoken a little softer, acutely aware of everything they entailed. Nora knew they were both thinking of when she had stormed into Acadia after discovering the memories he had tried so hard to bury and slapped him full across the face, calling him a coward, a hypocrite and a fraud. DiMA had taken every assault, for he knew he deserved it, and Faraday’s intervention had only gotten him knocked down for his efforts. It was only after Nora had run out of steam did she reluctantly agree to DiMA’s solution, on one condition: never again.

“I did it because if there’s one thing I learned from Nick, it’s that everyone deserves their fair shot,” She replied firmly. “Even if they’re a creepy cult that’s nuttier than a fruitcake.”

DiMA gave a soft chuckle at this, before his expression turned serious once more. “You spared the Children of Atom, knowing that allowing them to blow themselves up would be, to them, all their religion ever strives for? Division?”

“I spared them because Division isn’t real,” Nora snorted. “Neither is Atom, or any of that nonsense they’ve made up.”

“You said you followed a ghostly woman through the fog,” DiMA reminded her, but his words were not accusing. “She seemed real enough, did she not?”

“Yep, and when Hancock convinced me to try chems with him, I thought I saw dead people. I don’t know about synth minds, but human minds can conjure up some pretty crazy stuff after ingesting radioactive waste.”

“A fair point,” The synth admitted with a faint smile.

“Whether Atom is real or not, if the Children don’t have a raving maniac egging them on, they seem pretty harmless,” Nora went on with a shrug. “I figure as long as they’re peaceful, they can believe whatever the hell they want.”

“And yet, you knew that I was the furthest thing from peaceful.” Sadness and confusion mingled in DiMA’s voice as he stared down the desolate mountainside. “And still you did not even send me to Far Harbor to finally admit the truth about Avery. Why?”

Nora was silent for several moments, taking a sip of her now-flat drink as she considered her answer.

“I almost did,” She admitted at length. “At first, I thought that if I sent you, the innocent synths of Acadia would be spared, if nothing else. Then I realized that if I sent you into town to stand trial, those harbormen would have killed you, for sure. But they also would have likely destroyed Acadia anyway, fearing more replacements. Once I realized that, I knew I couldn’t let you die, not only in vain but for Nick’s sake. He’s just discovered the one person in the world who understands him, the closest thing he has to family. How could I take that away from him so callously?”

DiMA was silent. Nora chanced a glance over and saw the synth was looking at her with an intensity she had only ever seen in Nick once or twice. It was not uncomfortable though, but rather like he had suddenly found it necessary to form an entirely new opinion on her character.

“You truly are a relic,” He said at length. Nora couldn’t help but laugh at this.

“I’ve just poured out all my rationale and motives to you, and all you can say is how old I am?” She grinned, taking a swig of cola. “Thanks.”

“Oh—forgive me,” DiMA said quickly, and Nora couldn’t help but find his flustered embarrassment rather adorable. “I should have elaborated. You see, here in the wasteland, it is every man for himself, as I am sure you know all too well. But for you to take into account the wellbeing of so many people, the sacrifices and compromises you are and are not willing to make…such things became virtually nonexistent after the bombs fell. It is truly a great thing to have you here, changing lives for the better.”

“Just trying to make the world a better place,” Nora murmured, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks at this praise. She turned back to the sunrise, hoping the synth wouldn’t notice.

“Since you’re here,” She ventured after a few more moments of companionable silence, “Mind if I ask a few questions of my own?”

“Not at all,” DiMA replied. “Ask away.”

“When I first came here, you asked me if I was a synth. Was there any particular reason behind that, or was it just rhetorical?”

The old synth laced his skeletal fingers thoughtfully. “At first, I was almost certain that you were a synth,” He admitted. “It is…difficult to explain, but we synths have a knack for noticing our own, even if they are indistinguishable from a regular human. Usually, the defining factor is that every human alive today, excepting Vault-dwellers and the Institute, is…decidedly radiation-touched, as it were. Synths, even Generation 3’s like Chase and Faraday, are almost completely immune to radiation; a part of the Institute’s vision of ‘mankind, redefined.’ When you showed up, with scarcely any radiation to speak of, for a moment I feared an Institute courser had finally found us. Until I saw Nick with you, that is. But I suppose part of the reason I asked was also, as you said, an excuse to indulge my weakness for philosophy.”

“The old philosopher on the mountain,” Nora murmured. “How poetic.”

“The younger synths seem to think the same.” DiMA said with a fond smile. “They make no end of fun behind my back for it. But while you and Nick are here, I finally have not only someone who has lived as long as I have, but someone with the utterly unique perspective of being taken from before the very bombs fell and dropped into the middle of the wasteland with no in-between. Truly marvelous.”

The synth broke off his musings, looking about the ruined observatory lot. “…Speaking of Nick, where is he? You two have been inseparable since the moment you arrived.”

Nora shrugged. “This damp island air has been giving his joints a bit of trouble. He’s probably out scavenging for toaster parts or something.”

DiMA’s brow furrowed in confusion. “’Toaster parts?’”

“Oh, uh…” Nora blushed, realizing what she’d just said. “Don’t tell Nick, but my friends and I sometimes call him the Toaster Detective behind his back as a joke.”

The smile that curved the synth’s lips looked so much like Nick’s that Nora couldn’t help but think, they really are brothers.

“I am almost afraid to ask,” He said, “But if Nick is the Toaster Detective, what does that make me?”

Nora pursed her lips, studying his battered, wire-laced form with a critical eye.

“You’re the Microwave Philosopher,” She decided at length.

DiMA’s laughter started as a short, soft exhalation that seemed to surprise even him. More bubbled up though, and Nora couldn’t help but smile at what she knew must have been a rare occurrence. Just like his speech, the synth’s laughter was subdued and gentle, but that only seemed to enhance its value.

Just then the observatory door opened, and a harried Faraday stuck his head out, then sighed with relief. “Dammit, DiMA, you can’t just go wandering off without telling anyone!” He scolded.

 DiMA looked over his shoulder at the man, and Nora nearly choked on her drink. Was that a _smirk_ on his face?

“Stepping outside for a moment is ‘wandering off?’” The old synth asked innocently, “What, were you afraid a Fog Crawler would come and snatch me away?”

“Yes!”

DiMA quickly turned his head to hide his smile, then looked apologetically at Nora.

“It seems I must cut our visit short,” He told her, before reaching out to touch her arm fondly. “I hope we may speak again soon. I enjoy talking with you and Nick.”

The synth turned then and headed for an exasperated Faraday, who stood by the door with his hands on his hips, looking for all the world like a flustered mother hen.

“I guess since you had company, you weren’t in mortal danger,” The dark-haired man admitted as DiMA approached, “But still, you’re too important to just disappear like that!”

“Yes, Mother, I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Faraday could only stare flabbergasted as DiMA glided past him into the observatory. Then he threw up his hands in despair.

“Hundred-year-old synth or bratty teenager?” He huffed, “Sometimes, I can’t even tell!”

With a final oath, he followed DiMA inside, slamming the door behind him and leaving Nora paralyzed with helpless laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> I think DiMA and Paarthurnax would get along quite well. Old? Check. Philosophers? Check. Living on a mountaintop? Check. Despises their past actions but is completely ready to do it again? Check. All DiMA needs is a Fire Breath shout.


End file.
